


part ii: impact

by caritivereflection



Series: intangible [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, Dark, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:58:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9088030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caritivereflection/pseuds/caritivereflection
Summary: noun1.the action of one object coming forcibly into contact with another.verb1.come into forcible contact with another object.2.have a strong effect on someone or something.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in The WCKD Files: A Maze Runner Fanbook.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stairs creak

There are no occult symbols. No alters. Not even plain old graffiti.

The house is just a house and there is a thick layer of dust on the floor which rises in plumes only to settle again only to rise when Newt sneezes and sends it into a flurry.

It isn’t scary.

It’s sad.

There is broken furniture and splinters of glass on the living room floor. The kitchen has no appliances, and the bathroom has been dried up for so long that it doesn’t even have a nasty smell.

Upstairs, the three tiny bedrooms are empty. Windows are boarded up and the floor is blanketed with the same thick layer of dirt, even in the carpet.

Newt is sure that he is the first one to set foot here in a long time. Maybe years.

He wonders when… _if_ they will find him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Air hits, more dust than oxygen.

The dye of the pills bleeds into his skin.

He is not afraid.

He is not afraid of many things, and the groans and creaks and whistling wind will not frighten him.

He is not afraid of being dead.

But perhaps, maybe, he is _concerned_ about the dying, and that his mother and Sonya will have no idea what happened.

Yeah.

He already made this decision, after all.

The pills are hard and wet in his fist and he knows he should take them before they dissolve on his palm. Or put them back into the plastic baggy to keep them whole.

There’s no rush, right?

Newt clutches the pills tight and he turns the lamp to full power and huddles against a wall, hugging his knapsack to his knees to his chest.

Closes his eyes.

Breaths.

“If you keep it turned up like that, your battery won’t last the night.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beyond it, the faint hint of rotted meat.

Newt’s eyes snap open and he _screams_. There’s no holding back, no concern for saving face or looking brave, because—and _shit_ —someone is _there_.

It’s a bloodcurdling scream, but it’s just too bad that no one lives close enough to hear it.

There’s a form crouched on his right, so Newt launches himself away, but the knapsack tangles around his legs and he lands, hard. The pills, tiny and grainy and white now, with speckles of yellow where the sweet coating remains, soar. He ignores the spikes of pain in his body, ignores the way his heart thunders against his bones, ignores the rawness of his throat, ignores the loss of months of effort and planning, and he kicks at the bag.

Once he is free again, he tries to make for the door, but crumples to the ground at the pain in his leg.

His landing is oddly soft. Almost… cushioned, an impossible feat. The floor beneath him is hardwood, not even carpeted.

Newt ignores this and pulls out the knife in his pocket, but fumbles again and again and drops it before grabbing it in a firm, painful fist, deciding to twist around, scooting on his arse away from the figure.

That is when he _sees_ him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door slams above him.

He’s only a boy. Newt’s age or maybe a little younger. He’s Asian, with short, spiky black hair and a strong frame. He’s wearing faded bluejeans, a band t-shirt, and a leather jacket that’s seen better days. He’s the sort of bad boy that Newt would give a second look in the school hallways, and not for the most innocent reasons. The sort of boy he would give a third look, and fourth and fifth and so on, always hidden behind a book or downcast eyes.

“I… I have a knife, and… and…” Newt doesn’t finish, can’t because terror is coursing through his blood now, making his fingers heavy and numb and unable to work the blade out. He settles for a flathead screwdriver.

The boy scoffs and rises to stand, but he doesn’t come any closer to Newt. Instead, he paces away in a little circle, the footfall of boot clad feet like a distant echo.

“And what?” he says. “What will you do with that?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wind rushes through his hair,

Newt can feel the telltale pinprick of tears. He’s always been an angry crier, putting on the waterworks with a sneer and a scream.

“Is this some kind of fucking _joke_?” Newt says, letting that anger replace the fear. Newt has never been in many fights, but something tells him that he will hold his own against this kid.

The boy looks at him and cocks his head like a puppy, then smiles.

“Not a joke at all,” he says, then strides past Newt and kneels in front of—

The pill, white and speckled yellow, is pinched between his thumb and forefinger, and the glance he sends Newt’s way—

His face burns hot and his teeth grind together.

Newt pushes himself up and he doesn’t care anymore that his leg hurts, just wants to go away. Far, far, far away from this house and this boy and himself and if he wasn’t such a coward, he would _be_ so far away now.

He just needs his pills and he _will_ be.

He grabs the boy’s shoulder

and

he doesn’t.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and his heart jumps

His fingers don’t touch the soft, smooth leather, or anything solid.

He sees them pass right on through.

And the boy, he sees that Newt sees and he freezes and the pill drops to the ground with a gentle _tick_.

The knife falls more loudly.

Newt’s breath is bound in his chest.

The anger leaves him, like the blood leaves his face, ashen, but the yen for escape does not, only changes.

He has the presence of mind to back away, one, then two, then turn, but in the second it takes him, the boy is no longer knelt on the cold and dirty floor, but stood between him and the door.

Escape.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> into his throat.

He’s as solid as ever, which is to say perfectly, and only, visually.

He opens his mouth, but no sound rises from his throat.

His mind flashes back to storybooks and ghost programs on the telly, things he once consumed with the ravenous hunger only felt by a lonely child. It wasn’t supposed to be real, none of it. Just fun and games.

Even as he remembers, all knowledge of what to _do_ leaves him.

A tiny, pathetic squeak escapes him and he shuts his mouth with a painful slam of teeth.

“Please don’t leave,” the boy says, and for the first time Newt can sense the tinge of emotion in his voice. Of longing. Of… of something akin to fear.

“I haven’t… haven’t spoken to someone in so long.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?”

“Most people don’t see me… and no one ever comes here.”

The boy’s voice is whispered, so quiet, that, despite the ten feet that separate them, Newt can barely make out the words around the wind.

There’s a jilted, tilted, sardonic smile on the boy’s lips and a shadow in his eyes.

He steps away from the door, into the blue glow of the camping lamp, and the sharp angles of his cheekbones become more apparent.

Newt does not miss the lack of a shadow.

“You can leave. I won’t stop you,” he says. Then, the dark eyes jump to somewhere behind Newt, the floor. “But I won’t let you have the pills.”

Newt doesn’t need them, nor the knapsack, the light. His bike is outside, and he makes it—he doesn’t know. A mile. Maybe two?—before he is shaking so badly that he loses control and falls to the gravel road, ripping open the knee of his jeans, skinning his hands.

He vomits twice before picking himself up and heading home.


End file.
